Hope
by TASHAx
Summary: Ron has lost his mum and who is there to comfort him? One Shot!


**Hope is grief's best music, but Hopes best lyrics is love...**

**W**aters of sorrow filled the orbs of Ronald Weasley. Around him stood his brothers, Ginny and his father, Arthur Weasley, along with his two best friends: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Everyone was clad in ebony robes and all wore an equally expressionless face. They were standing around the freshly dug grave of Molly Weasley. Who had fallen at the hands of Lord Voldemort himself, only ten days previously. She had fought bravely, avenging Sirius' death, but had been distracted by the yells coming from her youngest son who was being cornered by Luscious Malfoy. And it was at that precise moment she had been struck down.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen." Finished the Vicar. An echo of his final word rumbled around the gathering of mourning people.

And as the last piece of earth sealed her coffin underground, the rabble began to disperse. Fred, George and Arthur were leading people back to the Burrow where the wake was to be held. Bill and Charlie were knelt beside their mother's grave in a tight, brotherly embrace holding back their grief. And Percy had not bothered, or was prohibited, to show his face at her funeral. He was in shame, as he had not apologised to his mother for all the awful things he had done and now she was gone.

Ron sat, solitarily, propped up against the trunk of an old oak tree. His head swimming in a pool of dispair. Harry and Hermione began to approach their friend.

"Get away!" shouted Ron; his face had become bright red.

"But Ron-"

"Save it. Don't you get it? It's my fault she's dead, I distracted her...I should have kept my mouth shut."

"It really isn't-"

"Harry, Hermione just go back to the house. Leave him to deal with this in his own way." Said Charlie and he and Bill led them back towards the wake.

After five minutes of screaming mutely Ron heard a voice he recognised.

"Ronald?"

It was Luna Lovegood. She sat beside him, her scent was sweet and her presence somehow settled him.

"I understand your pain." She whispered so softly that if there had not been silence her words would have been lost on the wind.

"No you don't! What are you doing here anyway?"

Luna's eye became glassy, "I-I'm here to visit my mother grave. It's an anniversary of her death today and I wanted to bring her some flowers. To brighten it up, you know?"

Ron had forgotten that she too had lost her mother. He looked up into her large, blue eyes and saw not Loony Lovegood, an insane, Crumple Horned Snorkack believing fifth year, but a caring, sensitive young woman. And when he met her gaze for the second time he saw the same loneliness that he, himself, was feeling.

"Ronald, I am very sorry for your loss."

Ron prickled, but then calmed, he wasn't sure why it did not affect him so much to hear Luna mention his recent loss. Perhaps it was because her voice was soft and comforting, or the fact she had been through this pain and truly what it was like.

"It's worse than that." Mumbled Ron.

"Why?"

"It's my fault she's dead." Gasped Ron, tears launched from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, "I didn't mean for it happen. I didn't know she would turn around."

"Ronald," Luna attempted to calm him down.

"NO!" He grabbed handfuls of the earth around him and threw it viciously into the air, "It's my fault 6 other people are left without a mother and my dad is no longer with his because of ME!"

"RONALD!" yelled Luna, it was the first time, in the two years Ron had known Luna, she'd ever raised her delicate voice, "it is not your fault."

"She did what any other mother would have done and went to save her child, how do you think she would have felt if she had ignored your pleas and today they had been burying Iyou/I."

Ron remained silent; it seemed to be taking a long time for his brain to process what she had just said. True if she had not died Ron would probably be dead. But he didn't care all he knew was that one of the people depended on and loved had died.

"Ronald, I really do know how you feel. My mother liked to experiment and one day I got really ill and the only cure was if you mixed two incredibly unstable ingredients together." Ron's eyes fell upon Luna and all the anger and self pity drained from them, he did not think anyone could comprehend his emotions right now. Yet there beside him sat someone who could, someone who exactly how he felt.

Luna broke the silence to continue with her fable, "well as you have probably guessed; she died. And for along time I blamed myself, as you can imagine...but then I realised, if she had not risked her life I would not be standing here today. She did not take herself from this world for me to be depressed, but for me to live as her little girl."

Placing her hand upon his arm was, along with her words, the thing that settled him. Her skin was the colour of ivory and her touch was as soft as silk. He turned and his gaze locked with hers. Heat appeared to rising between them, the air was thick with an unusual substance. Could she be more than an aquatence? A metre away. Blood rushed to her lips, making them look full, red and impassioned. Was he more than a friend? Inches away. His pupils were dilated, and his ears were beginning to match the colour of his hair. Perhaps lust? Centimetres away. Perspiration lined her palms. Slowly both felt smothered, each depriving the other of air. Love?

Her lips brushed his; they were soft and tempting. They deepened the kiss. Warmth engulfed them, stifling all other thoughts and feelings. Their minds were transfixed on each other. Ron's arm began to tingle, as did his lips, not had he felt this kind of bliss in a long time. Finally the ripped apart their caress.

Luna looked at Ron and gasped, "bouncing, Butterbeer corks!"

**End**


End file.
